


Getting Annie Home

by kyxy (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Comedy, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Generally a feel good fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kyxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Manga Spoilers for Annie only. Reiner's P.O.V.)</p><p>They defeated the titans, but they soon found that there were stronger enemies out there to kill them - time and disease. The members of 104th squad who were not killed in action died at the hand of old age and/or illness.<br/>It's now the modern day, and all the members of the squad have been reincarnated - apart from Annie Leonhardt who never uncrystallized, never got home and never died. Seven strangers, unaware of their previous lives, now form a crack squad and embark on their mission of finally returning Annie home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Annie Home

“So,” I said through a mouthful of Rice Crispies; “have you heard about that hot comatose crystallised chick they dug up from that excavation site not far from here?”

“Wow, you’re getting more desperate with your jokes each day,” retorted Bertholdt as he shot me an icy glare, closed his newspaper and placed it on his lap before relaxing against the back of the sofa and quirking an eyebrow my way. “What’s the punch line then? Humour me.”

“Hah, very funny,” I sneered, as I set the now finished bowl of Rice Crispies on the coffee table next to me. It was true that Bertholdt had gotten more sarcastic since we’d finally tied the knot and although it was a welcome addition to his seemingly _limitless_ personality, it seemed to be making more appearances than I could handle.

“It’s really not a joke, though. They did dig up this crystallised woman. They reckon she’s like, a thousand years old or something like that.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm, they’re guessing she was some kind of soldier because she’s got this weird uniform on or whatever – I don’t know. I’ve only seen a video and you can’t really see much anyway. Most people are thinking it’s some kind of large scale prank but it seems _way_ too extravagant and thought out to be that,” I said as I yanked my phone out of my pocket and opened the Facebook app. “I mean, look at this.”

Getting up and walking over to where I was sat, he watched as I played the video that had been posted on my wall an hour or so ago by a work colleague. He seemed to watch intently as a fat, greying reporter, who honestly looked like he hadn’t gotten any in years, stood in front of a large light pink crystal, which was displayed on some kind of large steel table that I assumed was for looking at dug up bones or shit on, and motioned towards the center of it where there was indeed a woman. From the video, whether it be due to watching it on a mobile, general bad video quality or whether it was just hard to see through the crystal in the first place, it was near enough impossible to see the actual features of the woman inside. The only thing that was really visible was her slim – yet kinda fuckin’ hot in an odd, comatose woman way – silhouette. The woman herself was not very big when compared to the size of the reporter. I guessed she must have been pretty short if the reporter was indeed around 5’5” which was what he seemed to be unless he had some weird long ass legs that extended below the shot.

“Earlier today,” said the reporter into a worn looking microphone, “archaeologists, who were digging in what is presumably an ancient burial site of a lost civilisation, came across this large crystal you can see behind me.” He turned and gestured towards it with a wrinkled, flabby arm as if those who were watching couldn’t tell what the object in the background was. Bertholdt struggled to hold back a groan.

“When it was fully extracted it became apparent that there was, in fact, a woman inside. Scientists, who have dubbed this exciting new discovery as ‘the sleeping beauty’, have been granted the specimen to perform tests on. Their results on this unheard of phenomenon will be released to the public in due course, but, we have been told that an onsite petrologist has stated that the crystal is assumed to be ‘more than one thousand years old’. We will be staying at the site to give you the latest news as it comes through.”

I was still as Bertholdt sat down and intertwined his slender fingers together – the habit I noticed that he’d gotten recently when he was deep in thought. It was unlikely that he even knew he was doing it himself and if that wasn’t adorable then I’m not sure what is.

“So,” I said after a few moments, breaking the silence and keeping my eyes on the other’s fingers. “What’re you thinking, Bertl?”

There was short pause, as if Bertholdt was processing the question in his head because he didn’t quite understand it – his fingers stroking the back of the hands they didn’t belong to. “I want to see her,” he replied quietly after what must have been another minute. In a way, I was relived at his answer and I relaxed the muscles that I didn’t realise I’d been clenching and let out the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding.

“Ah, I know what you mean,” I sighed, leaning back and rubbing my temples in circular motions. “You also got the feeling that we need to take this chick ‘home’ or is that just me?”

“Yeah,” Bertholdt mumbled as he also leant back, his eyes adjusting and focusing on the light that hung from the ceiling and the cobwebs that in turn dangled from it. “When I saw it – her – on that video it was like... I don’t know. I just want to be near to her.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve got the same feeling,” I breathed as I slipped my arm around Bert’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. The sarcasm he’d displayed earlier was long gone and it still scared me how easily he got blue and worried after years of being together. “I’m guessing she’ll be put into a museum soon, y’know, since they actually broadcast the report. Something tells me they wouldn’t do that if they thought it was dangerous or anythin’.”

“I shouldn’t think so.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said with the most encouraging smile I could muster through the lingering despair that settled in my stomach, “I have a feeling we’ll get to see her in the flesh – or should I say rock? I dunno.”

He let out a small titter and thumped my arm playfully before lowering his head again but keeping the smile on his lips nonetheless.

“Anyway we’ll see her soon enough, Bertl. I’m sure of it.”

\---

It was a week later when I got the friend request. Now, Lord, I confess, I am that person that accepts all friend requests through the magic of Facebook even if I don’t know or speak to them. I have in the region of five hundred of them and yet I barely know fifty of them. Accepting friend requests had pretty much become an everyday task for me (who am I to keep my fans waiting?); but the name that came up this time was ‘Armin Arlet’ and I hovered over the ignore button for the longest time before finally accepting with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. There was something about the name and the watery blue eyes that made me feel queasy. Nevertheless I ignored it and I then, like with all the others I’d accepted, went to check out his profile and pictures and whatnot. However, I soon found that I could not read most of what was actually on his profile as it was all in what I assumed to be maybe French or Dutch or maybe Italian? Basically it was something that was clearly not English.

A message came through a minute or so after I’d had the smart idea to try and work out what language it actually was through the use of Google Translate’s handy ‘detect language’ feature (turns out that it had actually been Romanian).

‘ **Armin Arlet:** I’m so glad you decided to accept my request, Mr. Fubar! I did try to find the other Mr. Fubar on here but I had no such luck?’

I stared at it for a while, wondering how a boy – who, may I add, was _extremely_ cute in not only his profile picture but also his tagged photos, which, let’s be honest here kids, is a serious talent – that was clearly Romanian according to Google Translate could form a sentence using better English than I could? I also paused to question the downright creepy nature of the message itself and the sinking feeling I’d had that the boy’s name and face alone gave me before quickly replying.

‘ **Reiner Fubar:** he doesn’t use fb even though ive told him he should

 **Reiner Fubar:** he is a bit of a recluse

 **Armin Arlet:** No matter! As long I can speak to one of you I do not mind. There is something important, however, that I need to ask you, hence the sudden friend request. I’m sure you’ll discuss this matter with your husband after I have explained all the necessary details.

 **Reiner Fubar:** go on

 **Armin Arlet:** A week or so ago, in the town near you, there was a woman encased in a crystal like substance found in an excavation site, correct?

 **Reiner Fubar:** yes that is correct also whats with the really good english its kinda creeping me out nnnngl

 **Armin Arlet:** would it be better if i typed like this instead?

 **Armin Arlet:** also, what is ‘nnngl’?

 **Reiner Fubar:** ‘not gonna lie’ with like, four nots

 **Armin Arlet:** i see

 **Armin Arlet:** anyway about the woman. i was doing a search after seeing the video and i found four other people, apart from yourself, probably your husband and me that spoke about ‘an uneasy feeling of protectiveness’ in a status/blog post after watching it. that makes seven people.’

My heart clenched in my chest and I bit down on my lip. The horrible feeling that I’d had while deciding whether or not to accept this weirdo had proved to be for a reason. It wasn’t a feeling of distrust or anything else like that though, but a feeling of great uneasiness and the feeling that the name was familiar and that alone made me feel a twang of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I did not like this man for reasons I did not know, and now I felt myself feeling even more on edge than before. He felt dangerous.

 **‘Armin Arlet:** the woman in question will be displayed at the museum that it is closest to the excavation site in two weeks time, and, after conversing with the other four people, we have decided that the urge cannot be ignored and we must do something about her before we all get driven utterly mad.

 **Armin Arlet:** in a nutshell, we want to take her ‘home’, like the feeling is telling us to and, ngl, we would like you to lead said operation

 **Reiner Fubar:** if i hadnt also got this feeling then i would probs call the cops but ok im in so we’re like, gonna rob a museum and take her ‘home’ or where ever that is

 **Reiner Fubar:** also bertl is not usually as up for breaking the law as i am but im sure i’ll get him on board eventually lmao

 **Armin Arlet:** great. i have arranged plane tickets for the other four people and myself in question to your hometown and hopefully we shall be arriving in about a week’s time or so. i look forward to meeting you again.’

And with that, the mysterious, yet barely legal for flying alone looking Armin Arlet logged off, and, as the adrenaline began to wear off, I started to realise what I’d gotten myself and Bertholdt into. I didn’t even know this creepy guy who’d managed to round up what I assumed would be a crack team of other equally as creepy guys and I wasn’t sure if I loved or loathed myself for accepting to essentially break the law with this strange band of morons that would be arriving in town in a ‘week or so’, but I was sure either way that the next couple of months would be exciting as hell. After all, if all things went well I guessed we would be returning ‘sleeping beauty’ home and maybe then the horrible niggling voice at the back of my mind – was it guilt? I wasn’t sure – would shut up. And if things didn’t go so well, we would all probably be tasered, arrested and jailed. Whatever. YOLO.

**Author's Note:**

> NB: I don't use Facebook and therefore what Reiner says about it is probably inaccurate, sorry!  
> Also, Reiner and Bertholdt are married, but there will be no full on ship moments in this - that goes for the other four people that'll be appearing next chapter too. This is just a bit of fun but I hope you enjoyed and if you have any ideas it'd be great if you'd leave them in a comment and I might weave them into the next chapters.


End file.
